District 11
by Demigod444
Summary: After the second rebellion fails, the Capitol takes 6 kids from the 11 districts to a boarding school where they prepare for Hunger Games 96, until they turn 18 or die. It chronicles District 11. Rated T for language. My summaries suck; but please read it
1. A Old, Fat Chicken Can't Shut Up

_Thweet! Thweet! _The whistle sounded throughout the train car, informing the passengers that they had arrived at their destination.

_Plop! _A blanket covered lump hit the mahogany floor of the train.

"Ow! Shit!" Kurt threw off the blankets in frustration. His right hand darted to the new bump on his head. _What a great way to start the day,_ he thought.

As he regained his bearings, Kurt came to a realization. _We're here._ Rushing to get out of his cabin, he quickly threw on a gray short-sleeved shirt and replaced his shorts with a clean pair of pants. He sprinted out of his room, and for the second time this morning, hurt himself, this time by running straight into the frame of the door. He let out another yelp of pain.

Selena was staring at him from across the hallway, smirking. "Try not to kill yourself before we even get off the damned train," she slyly remarked. "I don't think the Capitol would be very happy if one of their tributes showed up in a body bag."

"One would think that after thirteen years of your snide remarks, you would get tired of it," he told her.

"Nope." Clearly Kurt's shoddy attempt to stop his twin sister's stupid teasing at bay fell flat on its face.

Together, they walked to the living area of District 11's train car. One by one, the remaining District 11 tributes trickled in. Joan, Brendan, Stacy, Kenneth. They sat around for a while, discussing their nervousness and worries about how the day would commence.

"I wonder what we'll be doing here," Kurt said, curled up in a lime green armchair.

Joan started, "Well, I bet we-"

"Get your asses over here!" Harris interrupted. "Line up in twos, guys to the left and girls to the right. We're getting off the train now." The District 11 mentor herded his tributes to the exit.

Brendan and Joan lined up next to each other, behind them Kurt and Selena, and trailing at the end were Kenneth and Stacy. The door swung open, and they paraded meticulously, two by two, down the steps leading off the train.

They were greeted by a reception of people on the train platform. All 10 other districts had already arrived, along with their team of stylists and mentors. There were Capitol officials throughout the throng, ushering people to keep the districts segregated.

"Watch what you say around here," Harris whispered to them. "Don't say anything you wouldn't say to Snow's face. You never know who's listening."

As if on cue, President Snow cleared his throat, loudly enough to call for everyone's attention. _I can't believe that fat bastard's still alive, _thought Kurt.

"You all know why you are here," Snow began, "but let me reiterate." His double chin wobbled back and forth as he spoke, like the wattle of a rooster when it clucks. "Three boys and three girls have been taken from each district. You will stay here until you are 18 years of age, after which you will return home. Every year a boy and a girl will be drawn to compete in the year's Hunger Games. If they win, they will return to the training facility, where they will continue until they are 18."

Snow then launched in to a seemingly never-ending speech that advocated his the Games' new form, and explained that the Hunger Games prior to the second Rebellion were not sufficient punishment for the districts, and how this punishment would finally put the rebellion throughout Panem to rest. Kurt was too nervous about how the rest of the day would commence to pay any heed to the president's rambling.

"Well," President Snow finally concluded, "I have consumed enough of your time; you will be shown to your quarters now."

A Capitol guard led them through a series of hallways, some of which were more expansive than houses in their home district, until District 11's tributes finally made it to their hallway, with a big 11 delicately carved into the wall at the entrance. On one side of the hallway was the boys' dorm, and directly across was the girls'. Down the hallway was their bathroom.

In their respective dormitories, there were three beds, as well as three chairs, warmed by the sunlight shining through the window. Their accommodations were surprisingly welcoming, and although not large, the size was adequate to house the three of them. There was a table with a lamp resting on it between two of the chairs, on which there was also a note:

_Tributes,_

_ There are clothes under each one of your beds. From now on, you will wear these from this point forward. The clothes you are currently wearing shall be disposed of. Once you finish changing, follow the hallway straight, and you will come to the dining hall. You will be served dinner and then return to your dormitory._

They looked under each bed until they found the correctly sized clothing, which they promptly changed into. Each garment was adorned with the number eleven in some way; on the pants it was right below the waist, on the jackets it was on the back, and on the shirts it read ELEVEN across the chest. They actually found the clothes comfortable. They exited their room, and followed the letter's directions until they came upon the dining hall.

It was a relatively large room, in which twelve tables sat. The tables already had a plate of food placed at each of the six seats. One table was significantly bigger; the mentors ate there.

The boys found their companions sitting at one of the tables close to the largest window in the room, and sat next to them.

At their first meal, the tributes did not share much conversation; they all hungrily dug into their food, alleviating their hunger caused by having not eaten since before Snow's speech. The food was not great, but it was edible, and there was an infinite supply of it.

After a while of eating, a purple-haired man stood up from the mentors' table. He looked to be about forty years of age. "Excuse me." He broke through the existing conversations throughout the room, bringing upon it a deathly silence. Once he had attained everyone's attention, he introduced himself. "I am Lucio, the head of this academy, and the newly appointed Games Master. You have exactly forty-five days until the 96th Hunger Games." He gestured to a giant sign on the wall opposite the door, which read HUNGER GAMES IN 45 DAYS! "Five days prior, the two names from your district will be drawn. You will each have a schedule for your district sent to your dorms tomorrow morning. But I won't hold you here any longer. Now you should all go back to your rooms, I'm sure you are all tired."

**Author's Note: I know the chapter was kind of boring, but I just needed to get all the information in there. I promise the next chapter will be far more interesting.**


	2. A Hot Girl From District 7

**Author's Note: I'm going to try writing both from people's point of views and third person; I'm not sure which one I want to do or if I want to do a mix between the two.**

_Kurt's POV_

"Wake up!" Kenneth jostles me awake.

"What the hell, Ken?!" I yell. I obviously don't care much for being woken up, but I better get used to it. I mean, I could very well be living with Kenneth for a few years. _Oh joy._

"The schedule's here!" He waves a piece of paper in front of my face.

"Would you just shut up? If you're gonna talk don't yell in my face!" Wow, I'm a jerk in the morning.

"Both of you shut it!" Brendan says from an armchair across the room. "Well you're awake now; we might as well look at the schedule."

We huddle around the schedule, and Ken reads it aloud:

_8:00- Breakfast- Dining Hall_

_8:30- Combat Skills- Training Area 11_

_11:30- Brunch- Dining Hall_

_12:00- Survival Skills- Training Area 11_

_2:00- Lunch- Dining Hall_

_2:30- Analyzing- Training Area 11_

_4:30- Capitol History- History Room_

_6:30- Dinner- Dining Hall_

_7:30- Free Time- Lounge Area OR Dormitories- __**Note: **__**Note: Your district mentor may have an activity scheduled. These are always mandatory to attend. This will take place in your district's training room.**_

_9:30- Rest- Dormitory_

On the back is a map, neatly labeled, showing the location of every destination in the academy. Despite the fact that a few of the rooms are shared, most of them are designated only for the use of one district.

Brendan's eyes dart over to the clock on the yellow wall. 7:53. "We'd better get ready."

We slip into our new, Capitol-manufactured attire. I make sure to stuff the schedule into my pocket before leaving the room ; navigating the academy could prove to be a difficult task. Upon opening the door, we encounter Selena, Stacy, and Joan. We exchange pleasantries as we walk down the corridors to breakfast.

We are the last district to arrive to breakfast. An extra place is set at the remaining open table, at which Harris sits. In fact, every mentor is sitting with their tributes.

As I sit down next to him, Harris reprimands us. "You're late," he says while pointing to the clock. 8:07. Under it, the sign has changed to HUNGER GAMES IN 44 DAYS! "Get eating, you'll need your strength. This will be the hardest day of your life." Heeding his words with a twinge of nervousness about what's to come, I dig into my breakfast of ham, bread, and eggs.

After a while of eating, Harris gets up. "Come on, time to get to training room." He waves his hand, beckoning us. We follow him left down the hallway, and then right, until we go through a large, oak door.

A grass-covered field, archery targets, training dummies armed with wooden swords, and too many trees to count unfold before us as we set foot in training room 11. Harris proceeds to edify us with knowledge of each weapon that will be put into the Games, and how to correctly use them. I try my hand at archery, which everyone with the exception of Stacy fails at miserably. We spend the remaining half hour running around and around the grass field, with vulgar insults from Harris flung at whoever is unfortunate enough to fall behind.

"Move, you useless shitbrick!" He yells at Ken. I double over laughing from this, at which point Harris comes over and actually smacks me.

Our first combat training lesson concludes with Harris praising Stacy's archery prowess and Brendan staying steadily far ahead of everyone else during the running portion, and informing us that every day we will push ourselves, especially because the rest of us are awful at everything.

After brunch, we also spend survival skills in the training room. "The basic principle of survival," Harris says to us, "is to be able to outrun whatever is hunting you down." With that, he sends us running again, this time for the whole two hours of the period.

Kenneth is the first to vomit. Less than an hour into it, Ken puts his hands on his knees, bends over, and spews his lunch onto the field. "Wipe that puke off your chin and keep going!" That is probably the least encouraging motivation I have ever heard.

We continue on, and Stacy is the next one to throw up. Then Selena. After her, Ken does it again, which surprises me; I wouldn't think he'd have anything left after the first time. With only fifteen minutes left, I bend over, and the horrible-tasting vomit rushes out up my gullet and onto the ground. I desperately need a drink of water, both to alleviate my thirst and extinguish the awful taste in my mouth, but I keep running. Brendan, being seventeen, and Joan only a year younger, they are the only ones to get through successfully, despite that they are extremely tired.

We arrive late to lunch, because we are so exhausted that we plop down right on the grass and lie there for a couple minutes. When we finally show up, the other districts look significantly less tired then we are. If their first day of training was as rigorous as ours, they took it much better.

We report back to our training area for the last time today, to for analyzing. Rather than doing anything, we sit in a small, white room cut off from the rest of the training area, where Harris spends two hours explaining how we will analyze past Hunger Games as well as our activities during combat and survival skills.

After analyzing, we dart off as quickly as we can to our last working period of the day, Capitol history. This is the only time when every district's tributes are piled into one room together to learn. This class, taught by the Games Master, Lucio, also happens to be dreadfully boring.

I introduce myself to the short, blond-haired guy next to me. He says his name is Dominick Fowble, and he's fourteen. His brown, short-sleeved shirt says SEVEN across it.

"Look at her." Dominick says, pointing at an incredible looking girl sitting at a desk two rows in front of us.

"Wow," I say, my mouth hanging open a bit.

"I know," he says. "But try not to get any drool on the desk. Her name's Amy. She's from my district."

I have a feeling that Dominick and I are going to get along well. He seems cool, and now we have a common interest.

After dinner, we head straight back to our dormitories early, and fall asleep, hoping that next day will be easier to cope with.

**Author's Note: I'm not sure if I'll publish another chapter today or not, but I'm definitely at least going to start the next one. Please review the story. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but please don't flame. Thanks for reading!**

**-Zach **


End file.
